Attachment
by Frankie Alton
Summary: Montgomery Burns tried to never get attached to anyone or anything. Relationships were only a liabilty. Yet very rarely someone would manage to break through that barrier... [A story of the relationship between Montgomery Burns and Waylon Smithers Sr.]
1. Chapter 1

I wanted to write a fic exploring the relationship between Mr. Burns and Waylon Smithers Sr. (Smithers' father) Since Smithers Sr. was only in two episodes that leaves alot to the imagination. This chapter is based on the episode "Mother Simpson" which doesn't actually show Smithers Sr. but seemed to me like the place where the two of them might have first met. Also just to clarify, I don't really intend this to be a slash fic, just about how their friendship developed.

* * *

Friday, January 31, 1969

Professor C. Montgomery Burns sat at his mahogany desk in his office at Springfield University, growling in frustration as he graded reports from yet another class full of incompetent simpletons. He loathed teaching, but for some strange reason the university had required that he hold classes if he were to remain on staff as the chairman of their germ warfare research department.

It was appalling, really, to be wasting his intelligence on a group of students who would be better suited as guinea pigs than scientists. He was tempted to fail the lot of them and be done with it.

He glanced up at his clock and noticed it was five minutes past three. His lab assistant was late. He scowled in annoyance. It was bad enough that he had to stop his research long enough to grade these blasted papers, but now he'd be even more behind schedule.

Several moments later his door was thrust open as his assistant ran into his office, panting heavily and looking rather flustered. "S…sorry I'm late…" he said in between gasping for breath.

"Where have you been, Smithers?" he snapped, giving him an icy look. "We have work to do!"

"I was in Professor Fleischer's nuclear physics class and he got a bit carried away in his lecture," the young man explained, sounding quite apologetic.

"Fleischer," Burns said with a disdainful snort. "That pompous windbag just likes to hear himself speak."

Waylon Smithers snickered. "I think you have a good point there, Sir."

Burns felt a slight grin touch his lips. Of all of the students he'd taught during his tenure at Springfield University, Smithers had been the most tolerable. It was a combination of his agreeability, above average intelligence, and conservative nature. While most of the students had taken to wearing long hair, and wild, colorful clothes, Smithers always showed up for class in his plain gray suits and boring round glasses, his short hair neatly combed.

He was exactly what Burns had needed in a lab assistant, someone who was competent but who also understood his place. Not only had Smithers proven to be quite useful in the lab, but his cool temperament had served as a helpful counterbalance to his own fiery disposition. He was actually rather disappointed that he'd be graduating this semester, but he had hopes that he could convince him to work for him full time afterwards.

"So what should I work on today, Sir?" Smithers asked after a moment of silence.

Burns looked up, realizing he had been lost in thought. "Oh. Just continue on with what we were doing yesterday. I'll join you shortly."

"You have papers to grade?" he asked conversationally as he pulled on his white lab coat.

"What do _you_ think?!" he snapped. "This group of students is even more incompetent than the last! Why do they keep letting these _morons_ into this university? Do they have no standards anymore?"

Smithers chuckled. "Oh, they can't be _that_ bad…"

"They can and they are. They insult my intelligence with this dribble!" He threw his arms up in the air in frustration.

"Would you like me to grade those papers for you?"

The offer was slightly unexpected, but not really surprising. His young assistant had a habit of being unnecessarily helpful, above and beyond his job description. He certainly wasn't required to grade papers, but Burns wasn't going to pass by a chance to pawn off such a loathsome task on someone else.

"Have at it," Burns muttered as he stood up from his antique leather chair. "Then you'll see just how much I have to suffer for this job…"

"It must be quite difficult for you, Sir," Smithers said sympathetically, though with a slightly bemused grin on his face, as he sat down at the desk.

Burns wondered if he should be angry at him for being amused by his plight, but he found it rather difficult to be mad at the boy. For one thing, _he_ would certainly revel in someone else's misery if given the chance. Besides that, Smithers was loyal and trustworthy, as well as surprisingly honest for someone so sycophantic. The fact that he was willing to express some of what he was _really_ feeling was actually quite refreshing.

The two of them shared a strange sort of familiarity that was both confusing and intriguing. Generally Burns preferred to be alone. Sure, he had learned how to impress others in social settings, having come from a wealthy and distinguished background. Though he could be charming and conversational, deep down inside he loathed most of humanity. Very seldom in his life had he met anyone whose presence he could stand for more than a few moments without fantasizing about how much he'd like to strangle them.

Of course, it wasn't as if the two of them were friends or anything. He still found himself annoyed at his assistant from time to time, and he purposefully maintained a cold and distant demeanor as they worked together. Yet Smithers somehow managed to handle the bitter remarks and scathing insults directed at him without problem, continuing unfazed in his work. This was the reason why he was Burns' only lab assistant to last for more than a couple of weeks.

Burns opened the door to his lab and cast a glance back to Smithers who seemed diligently focused as he graded the papers. "Don't put too much thought into it. Hell, just fail everyone for all I care."

Smithers looked up at him and smiled. "Some of them aren't so bad."

"Hmph," Burns replied in disinterest. "Just make it quick. I need your help in the lab."

"Yes sir," he replied, immediately returning his attention to the papers in front of him.

Burns felt a satisfied grin on his face at Smithers' unquestioning obedience. He sighed happily as he stepped into his lab, everything neatly organized and immaculately clean thanks to his assistant. He'd be perfectly content to spend all day every day in there, alone with his research, away from the annoyances of humanity.

* * *

It was nearly seven by the time they finished up for the day. Smithers' shift was supposed to end at six, but he never complained about staying late. That was the sort of work ethic that Burns admired, and he was quickly realizing it seemed to be slipping away from the younger generations.

"I do apologize for keeping you so late on a Friday evening," Burns said as he locked the door to his lab, though the apology was more a matter of formality than sincere regret.

"Oh, it's no problem, Sir," Smithers replied. "I'd hate to leave anything unfinished over the weekend."

"Of course. But I'm sure a young college boy such as yourself has some wild plans for the weekend, hmmm?" he teased, with a mischievous grin.

Smithers chuckled. "I'm not much for wild plans. I'll probably just take my girlfriend out to a movie."

"Not one of those drive-ins, I hope. I've heard of the sort of scandalous activities that young people engage in at those places!" Burns was rather amused by the way Smithers blushed at his implications.

"N-no, Sir. Just a regular movie theater," he stammered nervously.

Burns shook his head. "You're more boring and conservative than I am, and I'm an old man."

"I thought you liked that about me?"

"I do," Burns agreed as they walked outside. "I'm sick of all these hippies with their crazy hair and ridiculous clothes. It's nice to know there are still a few young people who appreciate traditional values."

Smithers seemed pleased with that response. "Well, I'll see you Monday morning, Sir."

Burns nodded. "Good night," he said as he headed toward the faculty parking lot, Smithers walking away in the opposite direction toward the dormitories.

As much as he enjoyed teasing his assistant, Burns also had no exciting plans for the evening. He supposed he would head home to the manor and have a glass of wine as he read a book in front of the fireplace. After that perhaps he would soak in the tub for a while before heading to bed.

Nearly two hours later he found himself in front of the fire, just as he had planned, enjoying an expensive glass of an 1886 vintage merlot as he read Ovid's _Metamorphoses _in the original Latin. He was content, enjoying the peace and quiet of his mansion as he was surrounded in opulent wealth and luxury. It was a lifestyle reserved for a select few, and he felt that no one deserved it more than he did.

He nearly jumped when the silence was disturbed by the shrill ring of his telephone. "Who would dare to call upon me at this hour?" he muttered angrily, setting his book on the arm of his chair as he stood up and walked over to the phone.

"Ahoy-hoy," he answered, automatically giving his standard greeting, though there was a clear edge of annoyance to his voice.

"P…professor Burns…" came the nervous, stuttering reply. The voice was vaguely familiar, though he couldn't quite place it.

"Yes. What it is?" he said impatiently.

"Th…this is Clancy Wiggum. From student security…"

He felt himself scowl. "This had better be something important to be phoning me at this late hour, boy."

"Yes, sir. You see… something happened at the lab…"

"The lab? _My_ lab? Dear God…"

* * *

He made it across town to the university in record time, ignoring all traffic laws in the process. Still, he was too late to stop those damned hippies from destroying years of hard work. All of his research, all of his germs that he had painstakingly developed, had been rendered useless by a bunch of bleeding heart liberals who felt that everyone could somehow just live in peace.

It was beyond infuriating. He had been here in his lab for nearly two hours, surveying the damage, making reports to the police. Finally he had gotten tired of everyone, and had told them all to get lost. There was nothing that could be done at this point anyway, short of finding those responsible and making them pay dearly.

He sat as his desk now, a bottle of aged scotch in front of him. He poured a generous amount into his fine crystal glass and gulped it down without taking the time to savor it as he normally would have. Thanks to the several glasses of wine he'd had earlier, the numbing effects of the alcohol kicked in rather quickly.

He had just poured himself another serving when he heard a light knock at his door. "Who is it?" he snapped irritably.

"It's me… Waylon Smithers…" came the timid reply.

"Come in," he said, rather morosely. He glanced up at his assistant who was still wearing the casual clothes he must have changed into for his date that evening. "It's after eleven. What are you doing here so late?"

"I just got back from the movies and everyone on campus was talking about what happened."

"Ah, so you came to check on how the lab is doing then?"

"I came to check on how _you're_ doing," he answered, his voice laced with concern.

Burns looked up and met his eyes, realizing that his assistant's expression was sincere. He was not accustomed to anyone actually _caring_ about how he felt. He took a moment to gather his thoughts before answering. "I feel like hell," he said finally, being uncharacteristically honest. He motioned at his liquor cabinet. "Get yourself a glass and join me."

He watched as Smithers pulled up a chair to the other side of the desk, facing him. He picked up his bottle of scotch and filled the young man's glass.

"That's quite a bit, don't you think?" Smithers replied, raising the glass to his lips and taking a cautious sip.

He laughed and leaned back in his chair. "It'll take more than that for you to catch up to me," he said before taking a large gulp of his own drink.

Smithers smiled at him. "You don't seem like you've had _that_ much, Sir."

"You're right. I'm not _nearly_ drunk enough," he said tonelessly. He felt a little amused when he could tell his assistant was trying to decide whether he was being serious or not.

Finally after several minutes of silence, Burns spoke again. "You really didn't come all the way out here this time of night just to check on _me_, did you?"

"Well, of course I did. I figured you'd be pretty upset about what happened. I mean, _I'm_ pretty upset about it myself. I've been working on this research myself for nearly two years. It must be far worse for you, considering this is your life's work."

Burns swallowed hard and nodded. He rested his arms on the desk and looked down at his half empty glass. He was finding Smithers' empathy rather difficult to process, being something that was completely foreign to him. However, despite being an unusual thing, it was not entirely unwelcome. He was probably the only person who had any clue how traumatic this had been for him.

"I've been working on this project for years," he said, his voice cracking with emotion. He couldn't believe he was allowing himself to be so vulnerable in front of one of his students, and he blamed it on the alcohol. That had to be it. "All of that hard work. Ruined! By a bunch of stupid, filthy _hippies_." He spat out the last word as if it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"It's a tragedy," Smithers said in agreement. "I hope they catch whoever's responsible for this."

"Hmph. The incompetent police in this town can barely catch a cold."

Smithers grinned at his attempt at humor, though Burns wondered if he really found it all that amusing.

"Well, I hope this is the time they get it right, Sir."

"I won't hold my breath waiting for it," Burns replied rather bitterly, downing the rest of his scotch. "Besides, I have more pressing matters to worry about at the moment."

"I'm sure you do. You have to get your research going again," his assistant said. "I'm more than willing to help in any way I can. I'll put in as many extra hours as it takes to get the lab back up and running."

Burns actually found himself smiling at such a genuinely friendly offer. "I don't even know if it's worth starting over again at this point…" He shook his head sadly. "And to think, I was going to offer you a full time position in the lab once you graduated."

Smithers actually looked rather disappointed. "I would have liked that, Sir."

"Is that so?" Burns smirked. "Most people can't stand working for me."

"Oh it has its challenges," Smithers said with a nervous laugh. "But that's what makes it fun."

He tented his fingers as he regarded the young man sitting across the desk from him. As much as it pained him to admit it, despite his attempts at ambivalence he had actually grown to _like_ Smithers' presence. The two of them worked well together. He had finally found someone who could not only handle his cold, abrasive personality, but actually seemed to enjoy being around him.

"It _is _a shame I can't offer you that job… However, I do have a project I have been considering for a while now, and since this happened, maybe it's time to invest a new venture," he said cryptically. He looked up and met Smithers' eyes, giving him his most charming smile. "And I think _you_ might be just the person to help me make it happen."

* * *

Well there's the first chapter, let me know what you think! :D

As for Burns being a scientist, besides "Mother Simpson" where he works in a lab, in "Simpson and Delilah" his college yearbook shows him studying science, and also in "The Mansion Family" he has a lab in his manor.

The events in "Mother Simpson" happened shortly after Super Bowl III so that's how I came up with the date for this chapter. Wooooo Wikipedia! Hehe.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to CT and Plunderer01 for reviewing the first chapter. On to chapter 2!

* * *

"So, what do you think?" Burns asked with a mischievous smirk on his face. He looked over to his assistant, Waylon Smithers, who was surveying the property with a thoughtful look on his face. He had driven him out here, to this undeveloped property on the edge of Springfield, without explaining to him at all what his intentions were. Now he found himself thoroughly amused as he watched the younger man try to piece it all together.

"It's certainly a prime piece of real estate with quite a bit of potential," Smithers said finally. "I don't suppose you intend on telling me what you're planning on doing with it?"

Burns chuckled. "You know I don't make things that easy."

"Certainly not, Sir." Smithers looked over the landscape again. "Considering how far this property is from the rest of Springfield, I'd say you were considering something people wouldn't necessarily want near their homes or schools."

"Excellent observation. What else?"

He shifted his focus toward the river. "There's a convenient water source. Perhaps to be used to generate energy. Or perhaps to be used as a coolant."

Burns tilted his head to look at his assistant. "I'm impressed. You're correct, this is something no one wants near their homes, and the water will be used for cooling." He paused briefly for effect. "I'm going to build a nuclear power plant."

Smithers' hazel eyes grew wide in surprise. "That's quite a career change, Sir."

"Is it?" Burns said bitterly. "I'm sure it's just as likely to get protested by filthy hippies…"

After the attack on his lab he had made a half-hearted attempt to salvage some of his research, but he quickly decided the effort was futile. As frustrating as it was to have had so much of his precious time wasted, he wasn't one to sit around moping about it either. Time was money, after all, so he was eager to start on a new project.

He had been toying with the idea of building a nuclear power plant for a while; having acquired this parcel of land on the outskirts of town several years ago for that very reason. By his reckoning, nuclear power was the wave of the future. He stood to make a fortune if he could make this idea happen.

"I don't doubt that," Smithers agreed. He had his arms folded across his chest, with a thoughtful look on his face. "Do you think you'll be able to sell it to the residents of Springfield?"

"Of course," Burns said smugly. "I could sell ice to an Eskimo."

Smithers chuckled. "Is that so? I always figured you for the cold, detached type."

"Oh, I _am_. That doesn't mean I don't know how to be charming if the occasion calls for it. And if charm doesn't work, I have a few other tricks up my sleeve…" He let his voice trail off as they both stood there, looking over the property and imaging what could be. There was no reason to tell Smithers about his more devious business tactics just yet.

They were silent for a few minutes until Smithers spoke. "My parents will be here for the graduation ceremony tomorrow. I'd love for you to meet them."

Burns turned away, a slight frown on his face. He really had no desire to meet his assistant's family. That was getting a bit too personal for his tastes. Especially since he could imagine just how wholesome and friendly the Smithers family must be. His mother was probably the kind of sweet, homely woman who would invite him over for Sunday dinner. The idea made him shudder.

Of course, it wasn't like _he_ needed to be friendly. He could meet them, shake his father's hand, tell them what a good student their son was and be done with it. He had spent many years perfecting the sort of attitude that told others he had no interest in getting to know them.

He turned back to face Smithers. "Fine. But I don't have time to dilly dally with pointless conversation either. I'll be leaving campus shortly after the ceremony to work on important business."

"Of course," he replied, though he sounded somewhat disappointed. "I'd just like to introduce you, that's all. I've told them so much about you; they're a little curious."

"Curious, hmm?" He smirked as he wondered just what it was that he had told his parents. "So what do they think of you going to work for me after you graduate?"

"Well I think that they assumed I would take a job with a company that was a bit more… established," he replied somewhat cautiously.

"Oh? They don't think I'll succeed, huh?"

"It's not that," he explained. "It's just that no one in my family has ever been much of a risk taker. My father just wanted me to become an insurance adjuster like him."

Burns rolled his eyes. "So it's not just _you_ that's boring, it's the whole Smithers family! You should be glad I came along to bring some excitement into your life! Really, I'm doing you a favor by dragging you along on this venture…"

Smithers laughed. "Yes, sir, you are. Who knows what kind of stable, boring, 9 to 5 job I would have ended up with otherwise?"

He could sense a note of sarcasm in the other man's voice, but far from being annoyed, Burns actually found it rather amusing. Waylon Smithers was quickly becoming the one person in the world he could interact with in a way that wasn't shallow and full of pretense. The two of them had been spending a good deal of time together working on plans for the future power plant, and as such had actually gotten to know one another on a somewhat personal level.

Of course, Burns tried not to let things get _too_ personal. He couldn't risk getting attached to anyone. He certainly didn't need any friends, but he figured it was an added bonus that the person who would be at his side as he got this business up and running was someone that he actually _liked_.

"Anyway," Burns said, as he continued staring off into the distance and imagining how much better the scenery would look with the addition of two massive cooling towers, "once the power plant is fully operational, you'll be bringing home quite a nice salary. I'm certain your parents will be quite pleased you decided to take this job then."

"I'm sure they will. Then I'll be able to buy a nice home, and I'll be able to afford a ring for Carolyn."

"Carolyn?" Burns said, momentarily confused. "Oh, that girlfriend of yours you're always going on about. You really want to get _married_ to her?" He hadn't realized the two of them had gotten so close, especially since he tended to tune Smithers out whenever he started talking about her.

"Well, yes, I do want to get married to her! She's kind and pretty and…" he paused and looked down at the ground, blushing just slightly, "and I'm in love with her…"

"Ugh. Love. Marriage. _Children_." Burns made a disgusted face. "I've never wasted my time on any of that nonsense. Do you think I'd be where I am today if I had?"

"Of course not. But you and I are different. I get the feeling you like to be alone. You're probably happier single than you would be married. I'm not like that. I _want_ a wife and kids."

"Hmph," Burns snorted and headed for his car. "You're quite right about the two of us seeing things differently. Relationships are nothing but a distraction."

Smithers got into the passenger's seat. "Well, I think relationships can make life more fulfilling," he said somewhat timidly, though his conviction was clear. "Certainly you think that there's more to life than just money and success, right?"

"Not a chance," Burns answered tonelessly as he put the car in gear. "I thought you knew me better than that, Waylon."

"I guess not, Sir," he replied with a bemused grin. "But I'll remember from now on."

* * *

The next morning was sunny and warm, a perfectly pleasant day for a graduation ceremony. Of course, Burns could care less about the whole damn thing. He knew he wore a scowl on his face as he took his seat on stage, barely paying a glance to the students and their families who were assembled for the occasion. As the dean droned on and on, his mind wandered, consumed with thoughts and schemes and plans of how he would make his goals a reality.

He barely heard a word that was said that morning, until a certain name was called that snapped him back to reality. He looked up just as Waylon Smithers crossed the stage to receive his diploma. Their eyes met for a second and they exchanged smiles.

Burns wasn't quite sure what he was feeling. He wasn't really proud of Smithers. It's not like graduating Springfield University was much of an accomplishment. It was certainly not Yale, that much was for sure. But he was glad to see him graduate, if only for the completely selfish reason that now he would be able to work for him full time without worrying about studying or classes.

He managed to tune out the rest of the ceremony, and was the first of the faculty to make his way off stage when it was all over. He quickly pushed through the crowd, trying to find his assistant. He had said he'd greet Smithers' parents and he intended to keep his word. Once that obligation was fulfilled he could be on his way.

"Mr. Burns!" He turned sharply when he heard his name being called. He saw Waylon Smithers standing next to two people who were unmistakably his parents. His father looked like an older version of himself, and his mother was short, petite woman with graying hair styled into a conservative bun.

He took a deep breath and strolled over. "Hello, Waylon," he said smoothly, with an emotionless, professional smile. "These two must be your parents."

"Indeed," he replied with a genuine smile. "This is my father, William." Burn reached out and shook the other man's hand firmly. "And this is my mother, Mary."

Burns took his mother's hand in his and looked her in the eyes. "It's a pleasure," he said in his most charming voice. He felt satisfied as she blushed and looked away, a nervous smile on her face.

"Well, you certainly are gentleman," she said softly. "No wonder Waylon admires you so much."

"He admires me, hmm?" Burns looked over to his assistant, who seemed rather embarrassed by his mother's statement.

"Well, you have been like a mentor to me, Sir," he explained quickly.

"He talks about you _all_ the time," his mother continued. "Every time he comes home to visit he tells us how much he enjoys working in your lab. And now we hear that he will be working for you now at your new business?"

"That is correct," he replied.

"And what exactly is this business?" his father asked, regarding him with a curious, and perhaps even slightly suspicious, look.

He did not appreciate anyone questioning his plans, but he somehow forced himself not to scowl. "I'm going to build a nuclear power plant here in Springfield," he explained tersely.

William Smithers frowned, his brow furrowed in concern. "Isn't that dangerous?"

It was a real challenge for Burns not to sigh or roll his eyes in response. Of course the boring insurance adjuster would think the idea was scary. "That idea is a lie, spread by useless hippies. Nuclear power is _perfectly_ safe, not to mention efficient and affordable."

"And of course, the plant would have all of the most advanced safety features," Waylon added quickly. "The regulations are quite strict; I'm certain we have nothing to worry about."

Burns couldn't help but smile a little at how quickly his assistant jumped to his defense. It was good to know that he was fully onboard with this project. Loyalty was more important to him than just about any other trait.

"I suppose you have a point," his father admitted. "But what about my son's future working for you? How do you know this project will even make it off the ground?"

"Oh, there is nothing to worry about there," Burns said smugly. "I'll have no problem selling this to the people of Springfield. Once they see the potential revenue and jobs they'll be begging me to build the thing."

"I see," William Smithers replied, seeming rather taken aback by Burns' unapologetic self-confidence. Burns imagined the Smithers family probably prized humility and modesty- virtues that he considered to be entirely useless.

"Well it certainly sounds like you have this plan all figured out," Waylon's mother said cheerily.

"Absolutely," Burns replied with a rather wicked smirk. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have important business to attend to."

"Oh," Mary Smithers exclaimed, sounding rather disappointed. "Won't you join us for dinner to celebrate Waylon's graduation?"

So he had been right about Smither's mother being the type who would invite him over to dinner. He felt a little proud at his ability to read others. "I'm afraid I cannot," he said, attempting to sound apologetic. "Perhaps some other time. It's been nice to meet you." He turned to leave without giving anyone a change to argue.

The Smithers family was the exact opposite of any family he had ever known. Burns had been raised by his grandfather, a cruel and heartless man who only lived for money, and who had only adopted him in order to mold him into a suitable heir for the family fortune. No one had cared about what he felt, only about what he could do to maintain the family image. Waylon's parents on the other hand, seemed to genuinely love and care about him. It was all so foreign to him.

He felt something as he walked briskly away; something he couldn't identify. Or perhaps it was something he didn't want to identify. Whatever it was made him vaguely uncomfortable. Maybe it was a repressed curiosity, a long denied desire to know what it was like to be part of an actual family, to be loved and accepted and wanted…

He shook the thoughts off quickly. There was no time for dwelling on such nonsense when he had business to attend to. Whatever it felt like to have a nice, pleasant family, it certainly couldn't be more fulfilling than the thrill of running a multimillion dollar corporation.

As he sped away from Springfield University in his classic Stutz Bearcat, he pushed the thoughts of the Smithers family out of his mind. Instead he focused on his future, a future which held no room for friends or family or other such frivolities. A future where he was a powerful plutocrat who ruled his corporate empire with an iron fist.

Of course, he'd have Waylon Smithers at his side, but it wasn't like he _needed_ him. No, Montgomery Burns didn't _need_ anyone. He had made it this far in life on his own, and he wasn't about to start longing for companionship now.

He grinned smugly. Yes, the future would be great, and it would all be thanks to his own genius and hard work.

* * *

I hope everyone enjoyed Chapter 2! It's really fun getting into Burns' head and seeing what makes him tick. I've always been fascinated that Burns called Waylon Smithers Sr. his "dear friend" since he's not really the type to let himself be attached to someone like that. It's fun to imagine how things could have happened that he would allow himself to care about someone else as a friend.


End file.
